


truth is like a rotten tooth (you gotta spit it out)

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Finn and Poe are Blue Helmets, Human Trafficking, Kylo Ren is a mercenary, Luke is her videographer, No Pregnancy, Rey is a war correspondent, The First Order is a military Contractor, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, United Nations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Rey is sent on assignment with Luke as her videographer to cover Jakku's protracted civil war, she thinks she knows exactly what to expect. But it's been six years — Jakku isn't the same country she fled, and Rey isn't the same person.**This is not based on any one country, war, or conflict.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Anonymous





	truth is like a rotten tooth (you gotta spit it out)

**Author's Note:**

> Quotations in _italics_ signal the speaker is using a language other than English.
> 
> The title is from M.I.A.'s "Bring the Noize." All chapter titles are M.I.A.'s lyrics.

The smell of heat, sand, and garbage blasted through the cabin as the stale, cold air fled the airplane. War always looked the same, no matter where Rey saw it, but that particular greasy stench, that grimy sense of particles clinging to her nose and throat — that was all Jakku. Peering through the window, she saw they had pulled parallel to an apron line of military jets. At least that meant there were no bombings tonight. 

“At this time, you may unfasten your seatbelts…” 

Rey tuned out the usual noise, although it was harder when they launched into Teedospeak. Back in London, her ears strained constantly for their direct consonants and short vowels. Here, well...she supposed it was always inevitable she would end up back here. She was the one who decided on journalism as a teenager.

As the few people aboard began to deplane, Luke, her videographer, hauled their backpacks down from the overhead bins. “You ready for this?” he asked.

Without looking up where she was rifling for her wraps, Rey nodded. The grizzled old man had made his position very clear on her from the moment Holdo assigned her to him — “I don’t take on rookies.” It was only after a very long meeting with Holdo and the CEO, where Rey was certain her background was discussed in graphic detail, that he finally relented. “I’m not getting killed chasing your gut,” he warned her afterwards. “We both agree on local travel or I don’t go anywhere.”

His patronization didn’t mean much. Rey was used to men constantly underestimating her — her age, her ability, her ambition. At least he hadn’t called her ‘little girl’ again in his condescending speech. That was a step up from the first day he saw her on the Jakku beat. But that had been in passing, now they had to work with each other. 

Wrapping up her arms, Rey watched as the small plane emptied out. Nobody traveled to Jakku anymore, just aid workers, war correspondents, and mercenaries. Each was easy to pick out. She was fairly sure she was the only Jakkuvian on the entire plane, besides the flight attendant.

Luke was watching her practiced movements with an unreadable expression. _Whatever_ , she thought, as she covered her face. _I’m not inhaling rubbish fires for patriarchal clout_. Plus, the less skin exposed now, the less she would stink later. Finished, she hauled her pack onto her back and made for the airstairs. Immediately she was proved right. In the distance flames were shooting into the night sky. It looked like a refinery, but whether it was housing weapons or actual resources, it didn’t matter. Either way, it was spewing its contents to the wind as the smoke belched higher into the night.

“Fuck,” she heard Luke grumble behind her with a harsh cough. At least with her face wrapped, she didn’t have to hide her smug smile.

She had known Jakku customs and passport control were going to be hell, but the interrogator bringing in two guards carrying Kalashnikovs was just overkill. He was speaking in English, insisting Luke’s visa was in order, but there was something wrong with Rey’s passport. 

“Well,” Luke said, standing up and starting for the door, “if it’s not me, then I’ll just —”

The armed guards stepped forward. Their weapons didn’t move, but their cold, calculated presence was already the threat. 

Luke sat down with a pompous, “I thought so.” Turning to the lead interrogator he snapped, “Get to the point.”

If Luke thought his little power move would prove something, Rey knew he would be disappointed. Her eyes flicked to the interrogator, stoic and unaffected, as he raised an eyebrow. “We can fix this problem with your passport, Miss Venger, if you would sign these documents.”

Passing her a folder, Rey opened it to have her theory confirmed. The truth was they were disgusted with her profession and her Green Card, and the documents would strip her of both. 

Really, it was standard, and she was prepared for it, about to open her mouth when —

“She’s not signing that, you fucking idiots. You don’t have any right to pull this shit.”

Startled by Luke’s outburst, she looked up at him with mild surprise. It was his first in Jakku, and it showed. When nobody else in the room responded, he frowned, looking around. “What the hell’s going on?”

Sighing, Rey slid the folder across the table. _“I’m ready for my second option,”_ she said in Teedospeak.

The interrogator smiled. This was what they all really wanted. _“Of course this could all be resolved with a simple fine,”_ the lead told her resolutely.

She hummed, waiting for them to name their price, since of course it was their pockets the fine was going to line. Luke was looking between them, his face tense and angry.

_“In such cases, one thousand US dollars is the norm.”_

Rey snorted as Luke sputtered — apparently he knew enough Teedospeak to know money was involved. But he had the common sense to stay quiet this time.

_“Two hundred.”_

_“Five hundred.”_

_“Two-fifty.”_

_“Three hundred.”_

Rey nodded. _“Done_. _”_ Fishing out her wallet from the hidden pack under her clothes, she pulled the mad money she had told Holdo she would need and handed it over. After that it was back to English.

“I’m glad we could resolve this peacefully. You’re free to go,” the interrogator said, almost lazily as he passed two of the bills to the other men. “Oh, and Miss Venger,” he started in English, before switching to Uthuthma, “ _remember where you come from.”_

Flinching as she picked up her pack, she recovered with her nose in the air, walking out without a backward glance. Teedospeak was the formal language, Uthuthma was for family and close friends only. 

Luke followed her out only to grab her by the arm outside at the empty taxi stand. “What the hell was that?”

Looking down at his hand with a glare, Rey pulled herself out his reach. “Jakku.” 

It was a full, complete, and extremely complex answer to his stupid question, but Luke clearly didn’t think so. “What’s that mean? Look, bribery —”

“It’s not a bribe,” she snapped. “It’s _culture_. It’s just how things work here. This can’t be your first rodeo.” Luke Skywalker was famous the world over for the images he had captured in at least a dozen different war zones. Bribes practically were the economy of countries in conflict. Unable to stop herself, she added, “Honestly, you call me the rookie.” 

She loved how much he hated that. First he tried to point at her, then he put his hands down and tried to start several sentences, before he landed on, “No, of course not.” His voice was taut and sharp. “But you shouldn’t do that without talking to me first. Or at least do it in English, so I can help.”

“Was the fine too high?” she asked airily, as if that was the problem.

Watching him massage the bridge of his nose, Rey took deep satisfaction in how much it seemed to cost him to shake his head. “That’s not the point. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“If you were involved, you would have started to high and paid more,” she said simply, hailing a taxi as it came barreling down the road.

“Yes, but sometimes it’s safer to pay the foreigner price.”

Rey rolled her eyes, clearly disbelieving. Opening the door, she unslung her pack and slid along the backseat to stick it between her legs.

“I’m serious. You act Jakkuvian and someone’s gonna get offended at some point.”

"I _am_ Jakkuvian."

“Not to them,” he said pointedly. “Not anymore.”

Refusing to let him see her hurt, she looked out the window. Because understanding what he meant — that here, in her own country, it was safer to be identified as American than as Jakkuvian — was a cruel truth. For all that Jakku respected its own, she was now an outsider. Marked by her clothes, speech, even body language. Wearing her wraps, speaking her mother tongues, didn't stop them knowing she was someone who had got out. Someone who _left_. It branded her as someone who gave up — either she was moneyed or she was a traitor. To what side didn’t even matter. All that mattered was she had abandoned their homeland. She wasn’t Rey from Jakku anymore.

As if he had something to prove, Luke haggled the price down for a ride to the Grand Niima Outpost Hotel. It wasn’t a half bad job, Rey wasn’t sure she could have done much better.

Driving from the outskirts to the city was...disorienting. Some of her old landmarks were still there, old signposts of her childhood like the graffiti wall tagged with _“asses not assets.”_ Others she couldn’t tell if they were gone, erased by bombs or torn down by the various warlords, or if they had never been there to begin with. Hadn’t there been a park on that corner? Or was it on the other side of town?

She felt like a ghost sitting in the backseat of an empty world. Orange light flickered through the car with each residential block they passed, until they would turn a corner to a poorer neighborhood, where the blackouts were foisted on the most vulnerable. _The power grid’s more reliable than I remember_ , she thought listlessly. Unless those who were better off had pooled together and bought generators… Hucksters had found a booming business in diesel generators when she was a child, along with satellite dishes. As those who barely crossed the line to middle class fled the country, it left the economy ripe for the black market. 

Silently she sighed, trying to accept Niima had changed, but it was still the exact same. 

Twenty minutes later they pulled up at the jewel of the old government’s diplomacy, the best hotel in Jakku. Even in its shabby state, with concrete checkpoints and patrolling guards, that title was still true. Checking in went smoothly. They were in adjacent rooms connected by a locked door, and Holdo had already taken care of their bill for however long they were staying.

“Gimme a key to her room,” Luke said as the concierge began pinning the keycards.

The man behind the desk frowned, then looked to Rey. “I’m not sure —”

“If something goes wrong, we need each other’s key cards. Give her mine, too.”

Rey frowned at the grizzled old man. “What do you expect —”

“You wanna find out what it’s like to be separated and locked out after the hotel gets car bombed?”

The concierge’s eyes bulged before he recovered and launched into, “Sir, I assure you, we have the highest security —”

“Doesn’t mean shit when there’s fertilizer in the trunk,” Luke snapped. “Key cards. Now.”

He wasn’t wrong...if things got that bad, which was perfectly possible, and one of them was injured or died… Well, better to have the keycards to grab everything and make a dash for the airport. Rey nodded to the clerk.

As he pinned the keycards, he started the usual rundown. “We have a breakfast buffet that starts at 5:30 AM and ends —”

“Doesn’t matter,” Luke interrupted, taking the key cards and leaving. 

Scowling, Rey told the concierge thank you before running to catch up with Luke at the elevators. When they reached their floor, he slammed the door behind him without saying so much as a goodnight. 

Rey threw her pack on the bed, remembering with childish eyes how she had envisioned staying at this place. Before it always looked like a glittering gold palace. Collapsing back into the pillows and opening her adult eyes, she knew it was a dingy shithole. She had dreamt of the fluffy pillows and soft mattresses. Reality showed her the pillows were thin, the mattress sagged from where every other guest had slept. 

Sighing, she checked the clock. 12:41 AM. Unsure what time Luke would want to meet up, she set the alarm for five. That way she could shower and be downstairs in time for the buffet to start — and he couldn’t accuse her of being late.

Undoing her wraps, she slipped out of her jeans and threw her shirt and bra on the floor. Too tired to care about the mess, she tossed the duvet on the floor and got under the sheet. 

Rolling over, she could see all of Niima through the window. It stretched and sprawled, the modern and traditional spat out next to each other. Faintly she could hear gunfire in the distance. Some dream job this was.

“Welcome back, Rey,” she whispered to herself before she fell asleep to the familiar lullaby of Niima. 


End file.
